


Like Slipping on An Old Pair of Gloves

by piakichu



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Light Dom/sub, M/M, Other, Sub Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piakichu/pseuds/piakichu
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale get drunk together and Aziraphale accidentally forces a confession.  Crowley believes he's bad for Aziraphale; Aziraphale, on the other hand, believes he's about to be very, very good for him.  NSFW.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 161





	Like Slipping on An Old Pair of Gloves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nothingwrongwithnerds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingwrongwithnerds/gifts).



> I wrote this as part of a fic swap on tumblr. Please feel free to leave feedback! I'm always looking to better my writing. ^_^

“Care to run that mouthful of a name by me again, Angel?” Crowley laughed, casually swirling the contents of his wine glass as he spoke. They were in Aziraphale’s bookshop, drinking again. This was the 27th time they had done this since Armageddon failed to happen—not that anyone was counting. Except for Crowley, but why shouldn’t he keep a careful record of his social calendar? Even if his only engagements were with Aziraphale.

“Romanée-Conti Grand Cru. Produced under the Domaine de la Romanée-Conti.” The angel was clearly three sheets to the wind, but still spoke French as masterfully as he did when stone-cold sober. Crowley’s thoughts couldn’t help but dart briefly to the mechanics behind such perfect pronunciation—what tongue movements, for example, would French require? —but he quickly refocused his attention on the vase of lilacs sitting on the windowsill behind Aziraphale’s head.

“You know, I’m pretty sure you said something entirely different this time. You’re just making this up now.” Crowley’s eyes sparkled, his mesmerizing gaze meeting Aziraphale’s far more innocent visage. Aziraphale’s pulse quickened, although it was impossible to say if this was due to the intensity of his friend’s gaze or his own rising ire at the insult to his linguistic ability.

“You know what—”

“No, I don’t know what. Tell me.”

Aziraphale attempted a haughty huff but hiccupped halfway through. “I may be rather intoxicated, but I still speak French just fine, thank you very much.”

“Sure, believe whatever you like. You’re only 4 glasses in, after all—can’t be that intoxicated yet.”

***********************************************************************

4 Hours later, Aziraphale and Crowley were both very, very intoxicated. They had become quite comfortable, sitting together on a rogue mahogany-colored sofa in a corner of the shop.

“You know, Crowley—” Aziraphale slurred his speech considerably more now and was fiddling with the fingertips of his formal gloves. He hadn’t needed to wear them for centuries, but he had found that Crowley was somehow surprisingly fond of them. Ever since, he had worn them with some degree of regularity.

“No, I don’t know. Tell me.” The demon was sprawled across both the sofa and Aziraphale’s lap, with one arm lazily placed upon the back. He watched intently as the angel fidgeted with his gloves. This was clearly not a nervous action, but rather a sign of comfort. They were so familiar with each other’s quirks Crowley could tell instantly that the angel was at ease. In the same way that he could put his legs on Aziraphale’s lap without fear, the angel felt safe with his fastidious, if unnecessary habits. Heaven had frowned so much upon superfluous, nervous movements. Crowley, on the other hand, loved to watch Aziraphale play with the fingertips of his gloves.

Aziraphale spoke with an air of confidence that only accompanies fools and drunkards. “The humans have a hilarious new concept called ‘may-may’s.’”

“Memes, Angel. And yeah, I invented them. Real time-sucker, very evil.”

“Well, the one that I am thinking about now is a picture of a young woman from an American TV show. She is holding a microphone and she is saying ‘and I feel love in this Chili’s tonight.’ I’m not quite certain why she feels love inside of a pepper with a mild capsaicin level, but I thought it was pretty funny.”

“Chili’s is an American restaurant, Angel. The context is—”

“Oh, do shut up, Crowley. I couldn’t care less what the context is. That’s not at all the point.” He attempted to sulk. but caught sight of his own countenance in the mirror and burst out laughing. Everything was far more low-stakes under the influence of a little alcohol. The relaxation of the atmosphere allowed him to take everything less seriously, not just his nerves.

“Then what is the point, if not the context?” Crowley wore a bemused expression. The angel had clearly had too much this time, his usual eloquence had left him hours ago.

“I also feel love in a pepper tonight, dear. But the pepper is this room. You know?”

“Oh, c’mon, Angel, you’re not making any sense.”

“It’s from us. I’m full of so much love, it must be the wine. Powerful aphrodisiac, Pinot Noir. And from you, too!”

Crowley froze. “What?”

“Why, from you, Crowley. I can feel the love emanating from you.” His shining blue eyes flew wide open, the expression on his face both earnest and invigorated. His mouth was agape in almost a smile, but it also posed a question; a question Crowley could not answer. The demon propelled himself off of the couch and took a few frantic steps back. 

“No! No, you can’t!” he almost growled, his voice booming from his chest.

Aziraphale’s face fell, turning into puzzled hurt. “But Crowley, I—”

“No. You can’t feel my love. If the fires of hell can’t melt my heart, what on Earth possibly could?”

That last statement rang through the bookshop like a funeral knell. The heavy silence permeated their very souls. Aziraphale gazed silently at the wine bottles, and then sighed and began to sober up. Crowley took his cue from him and began to sober up as well. The bottles filling was the only sound echoing through the bookstore. Once finished, the oppressive silence remained unbroken for quite some time.

Finally, Aziraphale spoke. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.”

“I just—”

“Look, Aziraphale, it’s not that easy. I’m—fallen. Tainted. Everything about me is untouchable. And here we are, in your home, in your bookstore. Not a minute ago I was practically in your arms. I’m going to sully you; I just know it.”

This was a lot for Aziraphale to take in. He paused, trying to piece together what on Earth Crowley could mean.

“I know it’s wrong. I know I shouldn’t want this. I spend eternity trying to be near you, but I know it’s my responsibility to run away. For your sake. To keep you unharmed, pure.” The demon spoke in a rushed, frenzied tone, the words spilling out almost faster than his drunken mind could articulate. “I know this, and it’s impossible. I cannot leave you, even for your own damn good. And worse yet, I love you, Aziraphale. I really, really do. And I know that that’s wrong and I need to just stop, but I can’t. I shove it down, I press it back, I do everything in my power to prevent you from knowing and I keep as much distance as I can stand. And it hurts, it aches to be without you. But eventually, it evens out. It stops hurting so badly. Or I get used to it, anyway. I start to feel fine.”  
“And yet, every time I see you again, it feels like slipping on an old pair of gloves. They may be worn and threadbare in some spots, but they remember the curves of your fingers, caressing them with the gentleness of flower petals floating on the surface of a pond. You feel familiar, like a dance no one has done in years, but your muscles recall with the clarity your mind lacks. A lilac bush, a gavotte, white formal gloves and a voice you cannot live another moment without hearing it speak your name. That’s what you are to me, Angel. Call it love if you want. I wanted to protect you by withholding a name from it. Nothing would tempt an angel to sin faster than missing a kiss on the forehead and meeting his lips instead.”

Aziraphale was silent for a moment. Crowley could hear his every breath, each slightly more frantic than the last as the angel struggled to articulate his racing thoughts. He hates me, doesn’t he? Crowley thought. He hates me forever and ever and ever and Good Lord in Heaven, how could I have done this to him? How could I have done this to us? Everything’s ruined forever and there’s no going back from this. I’ve gone and spoiled everything, I’ve hurt him beyond what he can handle. How could I throw away everything I’ve worked for all these years on the faint chance that he would feel the same way? His arms began to turn purple and he felt a wooziness in his head. I’m going to discorporate, aren’t I? He thought, his stomach sinking.

Then, of all the damn things that could have happened, Aziraphale laughed. It started as a nervous reaction, then became a slight chuckle, finally becoming booming laughter that moved his waistcoat with every sound. He laughed so hard he almost began to cry. Crowley was stunned, so stunned he forgot everything else. Why on earth would Aziraphale laugh? This was not an anticipated response at all.

The angel gave one last mirthful laugh and then sighed and pulled himself together. He straightened his jacket and looked the demon dead in the face.

“Oh, Crowley dear, is that all?” he cried in clear relief.

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘is that all.’” He sounded defensive, perhaps a little bitter.

“Well Good Lord, Crowley, I thought you were serious when you said you were incapable of love. But this is good news, this is the best news!”

“Oh.” The feeling was coming back into his extremities, he was starting to relax. He took a deep breath and started to smile sheepishly. Then he suppressed his grin and a look of worry came over his face.

“My point still stands, Aziraphale. I’m sorry, but I’m not good for you.”

A change came over the angel’s demeanor, a look Crowley had never seen before. Smugness, perhaps? No, this was far more… seductive. Dominant, even.

“Oh, Crowley, darling,” Aziraphale said with an almost wicked grin, “you will be.”

“Will be what?” he countered, swallowing hard reflexively.

“You’ll be good for me. So very, very good for me.”

Aziraphale took his left glove off with one swift gesture but grabbed the index finger of his right glove with his teeth and slowly, sensually took his hand out. He tossed them aside, then stood up and grabbed the collar of Crowley’s shirt. He turned the demon and almost hurled him into the sofa cushions. Then he knelt beside him on the couch, straightening up to his fullest possible height. He placed his hand on the demon’s cheek and swiftly planted a kiss on his forehead. Crowley looked as though he might melt into the sofa. Then Aziraphale grabbed his collar again and pulled the demon in, meeting his lips with passionate force.

***********************************************************************

Crowley thought they must have stayed here like this for hours, although it was only a few blissful moments. When Aziraphale pulled his face back, Crowley fell back onto the sofa. A soft moan escaped his lips.

“That’s it, you beautiful demon. Make that sound again for me.”

“Please,” Crowley sighed, “I need you to kiss me again if I’m going to do it right.”

The angel’s lips twisted into a devious grin. “Alright, I will. But you have to ask me nicely.”

Crowley scoffed. “I told you ages ago, I’m not nice, Angel. And I already said please.”

“Well then, I’m not going to do it ever again.” He tilted his head and Crowley could have sworn the angel sneered, if angels could even do such a thing.

“Ever?!” He didn’t intend to sound so panicked, but what was he to do?

“Not unless you ask me correctly.”

Crowley attempted to sigh, only to let out a low moan. “How am I supposed to ask you?”

“Say ‘Please, Angel, I need you to kiss me. I’m a needy little thing, I’m desperate for it.”

Crowley felt his cock grow hard in his pants. He knew Aziraphale could feel it too. “I’m worked up, Angel, but not quite that worked up.” He was definitely that worked up, but he wanted the angel to make him say it.

“Then I won’t do it. Never again.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it.” Crowley took a pause, then began to plead. “Please, Angel, I need you to ki—” Crowley’s eyes darted away, cheeks flushing. How could this possibly be so hard? On that note, how could he possibly be so hard? The irony of that thought almost made him chuckle in spite of himself, but Aziraphale was not to be deterred.

“Look me in the eyes when you’re talking to me, Crowley.”

“Please, Angel, I need you to kiss me.”

“I won’t do it unless you say the whole thing. Would you rather repeat after me?”

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale’s eyes gave him a brief flash of empathy before hardening once again.

“I’m a needy little thing.” He gazed down at the demon, who felt the stare could pierce his very being.

“I’m a needy little thing.” His voice came out small and hesitant, but he met the angel’s eyes.

“I’m desperate for it.” Aziraphale’s voice became huskier, and he started to run his gloved hand just lightly over Crowley’s lap.

“I’m desperate for it.” He could barely help himself; he had never been that close to Aziraphale before and his desire was definitively getting the better of him.

“Desperate for what?” He was just teasing him now, drawing it out for his own pleasure’s sake.

“For your kiss, your lips, your tongue, whatever you want me to say! For your god damn mouth on my co—” He froze, unable to continue the sentence.

“What was that, Crowley, dear? I’m going to need you to finish that sentence.”

“For your mouth on my… on my…” Crowley, the evil, demonic, tainted being, could barely bring himself to say the words.

“Say it.” Aziraphale’s voice had a commanding edge to it now, one none would dare disobey.

Crowley hesitated, then acquiesced. “For your mouth on my cock.”

“Oooh, good work, Crowley. You’re not as inarticulate as I thought. You’re being such a good little thing for me.” The angel beamed, and Crowley felt as though the sun shone on his face. Then his smile turned dark. “But I’m afraid that’s not what I’m here for today. You may have my lips, but not the ones upon my face, if you catch my meaning.”

Crowley’s face turned an even deeper shade of crimson, if that was possible.

“But first, I need you to do something for me. Okay, love?”

“Anything, Aziraphale, anything!”

The angel unbuttoned his trousers and slid them off with some difficulty. The damn things had gotten a little tight recently, although they suited him well. He leaned back across the sofa and Crowley rose to his knees. He gasped at the sight of a small wet spot on the angel’s briefs.

“Pull those off of me, dear.” The angel ordered. Crowley did as he was told. He shuddered with pleasure as he pulled at the angel’s waistband, sliding his underwear off as quickly and carefully as he could. Then, Aziraphale was there before him, fully exposed.

The demon could barely contain himself now. He was greeted by the sight of the softest, pinkest, most slick taint he had ever laid eyes on. The folds of Aziraphale’s skin were covered with cloud-like, white puffs of his hair, matching that on his head. His thighs were glorious, and in that moment, Crowley would have given anything to have his head sandwiched between them. The angel’s stretch marks ran along the sides of his hips and belly, as though someone had undressed him and painted wispy lines of pink and purple hues. Was Aziraphale a sunrise, or a sunset? The demon couldn’t tell and almost didn’t care, as the sweet smell of the rapidly growing pool between his legs distracted him.

Again, the angel interrupted his musings. “I know we often dine in at restaurants, Crowley, but now is the time for eating out. Put your face here, that’s it, very good.” And with that, he grabbed Crowley’s hair and pulled him in. He instinctively opened his mouth and began to kiss the angel’s lips. He almost couldn’t stand how good the angel tasted, sweet but with a hint of acidity, like lemon sorbet. His kissing turned to licking, alternating between broad strokes and localized, circular movements. He’s not a sunrise or a sunset, Crowley thought, lost to the world around him, he’s Heaven.

Aziraphale moaned and bucked his hips, still guiding Crowley’s head to direct his movements. He gasped in pleasure, then taunted, “So eager, aren’t you? You’re so good for me, love. It’s in your nature, isn’t it? You just can’t help yourself.”

Crowley found himself moving his hand to undo his own trousers, unable to resist the temptation. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes for a moment, grabbed the demon’s wrists, and pulled them up to his own chest. Now Crowley was trapped, his arms twisted above his head, his head between Aziraphale’s thickset, heavenly thighs, and his legs still bent in a kneeling position, stuck by the end of the couch.

“Not so fast, darling. You’re an impatient little slut, aren’t you?”

Crowley moaned in spite of himself. His face was dripping with Aziraphale’s sweetness, he was stuck in this unseemly position, and even though he was a demon, he couldn’t help but blush at the word slut. Especially coming from pure, innocent Aziraphale, in that voice that made Crowley want to both hide his face and expose his body. The angel noticed and smiled at his predicament.

“Now Crowley, I’m sure you’re getting harder by the second, aren’t you?” The angel rocked his hips, rubbing himself over the demon’s lips and tongue.

“Mmmm, MMMmmmm, MMMMmmmhmmmm!” Crowley tried to answer affirmatively but found himself with a mouthful of the angel instead.

“There, see why I had you wait? Now you’re excited, aren’t you?” Aziraphale pushed Crowley off of him and stood upright. His shirt had started to become undone, but he didn’t bother to take it off. He snapped his fingers, and Crowley’s clothes disappeared instantaneously. The demon yelped in surprise, and his cock rose in spite of himself.

“Lie on the sofa, Crowley dear. I’m going to climb on top of you, and you’re going to buck your hips up into me. You seem awfully desperate—let’s hope you last long enough for me to climax.”

Crowley grunted affirmatively and moved to the new position. The angel straddled him and sunk onto his cock. His hole involuntarily clenched upon entry, and both of them moaned simultaneously. He began to buck his hips into Aziraphale cautiously, then vigorously. The pleasure was almost too much for either of them. He loved the weight of the angel on top of him, he loved to feel their hands exploring each other, and most of all he loved to feel himself inside the angel. His angel.

Aziraphale leaned forward to kiss Crowley once more, and the demon was unable to contain himself. He gave one last moan as their lips met, and shot his load directly into Aziraphale. He came for about 10 seconds, still grinding his hips, and then he stopped. But Aziraphale continued to move.

“Oh god, Angel, I’m so sensitive. I can’t, I can’t—”

“If you need me to stop, I’ll stop, dear. But I haven’t come yet, I think it will be another 20 seconds at least.” He dropped the dom tone for a moment. “Is it okay if I go on?”

Crowley thought for a moment, then answered “Yes.”

Aziraphale nodded and began to ride him again. It was the most unbearable, most pleasurable 10 seconds of Crowley’s life. So sensitive, almost painful, but he could feel Aziraphale beginning to contract. Only a few more seconds left, he thought. I can make it. I almost don’t want him to cum. I don’t want him to stop.

Suddenly he felt Aziraphale tense around him. The angel’s voice rose and fell as his walls began to rhythmically contract around him, clenching down harder than he’d ever imagined he could. It was wonderful, and he felt every sensation tenfold given his state. Aziraphale gave one last “Oh, Crowley!” and slipped the demon’s cock out of his hole. He draped himself next to his lover with a contented sigh.

“Good lord, Aziraphale—that was quite a show!” Crowley felt it only fair to tease him again, now that his angel had collapsed on top of him.

“Oh, do hush, Crowley.” Aziraphale said. He seemed almost embarrassed but gratified. “I just couldn’t stand to think of you really believing you were bad for me.”

“Well, you’ll have to remind me, sometimes. Old habits die hard, and all that.” Crowley put his arm protectively over his angel and shifted so they could lie side by side. He looked into those angelic, pale blue eyes, so kind and full of care. “But this should help me remember.”

“Like a dance no one has done in years, but your muscles recall with the clarity your mind lacks?” He beamed softly, his hair a halo against the dark fabric of the couch.

The demon returned the smile and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Like slipping on an old pair of gloves.”


End file.
